


i got troubles (they won't let me be)

by antipathy



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Crying, Dirty Talk, Emotional Infidelity, Fuck Or Die, Fucked Up Feelings, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antipathy/pseuds/antipathy
Summary: “I don’t understand why you’re hung up on this.” Five didn’t bother to mask his scowl. “Let me spell it out for you: either you two fuck, or we all die.”





	i got troubles (they won't let me be)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a [prompt fill](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=67356#cmt67356) for umbrellakink and spiraled from there. any mistakes are my own. enjoy!

As things in the Hargreeves household usually were, Five’s “meeting of utmost importance” and "just Diego and Klaus (but I’ll fill the rest of you in later)” turned out to be nothing short of a nauseating clusterfuck. Coffee was spat. Lives were ruined. Mom’s pancakes left uneaten, forgotten, and soggy from overzealous use of syrup.

“...Woah, woah, woah. Wait a sec. What did you say?” Diego had the balls to break the uncomfortable silence that had taken over since Five’s announcement. Bless his heart.

“Ugh. You guys,” Five, stone faced as ever, enacted a crude demonstration with his hands, “you know– I’m not saying it again– and poof. New timeline, apocalypse averted.”

Klaus took to biting his nails while Diego sputtered like a confused and very pissed off cat.  “Have you lost your goddamn mind?!”

The coffeepot clinked against the ceramic rim of Five’s mug. “I’ve scoured countless probability maps,” he said, focused on his meticulous pouring and not so much the fucking elephant in the room, “done the calculations– twice, actually– and this is the most plausible solution.” He paused. “Without killing anyone, anyway.”

Diego pressed his palms flat on the kitchen table and collected himself. Or, er, tried to collect himself. Five could tell he was on the verge of passing out. “Okay. Yeah. Alright.” His voice cracked, “How... how the hell did you even come up with this shit?“

Klaus nodded eagerly. “Yeah, Five, you absolute freak! Per _-vert!”_

“One, I don’t want to talk about it. Two, we’ve been over this. Past your level of intellect, Diego.” Then, as an afterthought, because Klaus started snickering and Diego’s eyes glinted with direct murderous intent, “You too, Klaus.”

Five ignored Klaus’ snicker-turned-whine and sipped his coffee. He figured this would happen. They weren’t Allison and Luther, unfortunately, and it was clear they hadn’t entertained the possibility of a pseudo-incestuous rendezvous before now. Unsurprising for Diego, but Klaus? Ehhhh.

If only it _were_ Allison and Luther. Wouldn’t that have made this infinite times easier.

One of the kitchen knives hurtled toward his nose. It missed by a hair, and instead curved down and into the table. Ah.

“Not a good answer,” Diego said.

“I don’t understand why you’re hung up on this.” Five didn’t bother to mask his scowl. “Let me spell it out for you: either you two fuck, or we all die.”

They didn’t reply. Klaus collapsed in one of the chairs, woe and defeated, and Diego continued to stare; he likely anticipated some _aha! gotcha!_ moment that would never come.

“The world’s fate is in your court, guys,” Five said. He polished off his coffee and glanced between them pointedly.  “We have less than a week to make this right. Again. And this time we can’t afford to screw up. So. Don’t screw up.”

In a blink of blue, he was gone.

“Motherfucker,” Diego said.

—

Klaus cleared his throat directly following Five’s more-than-appreciated departure. “So. We are absolutely letting the world burn, right?” His leg jiggled up and down, up and down, its force rattling the table and Diego’s nerves, if his eye twitch was anything to go by. Or maybe that was thanks to Five. Klaus really didn’t care.

When Diego failed to acknowledge his revolutionary stroke of genius and/or apathy towards Earth’s total annihilation, he leaned forward, balanced his chair on two legs, and gasped as dramatic as only Klaus could manage. “Hold up... are you for real considering Number Five’s stupid plan? Diego, nooo!”

“Of course not. Just.” Diego waved dismissively. “Gross.”

“Wow. Rude.”

“It’s just.” Oh, were his cheeks getting red? “Hate to admit it, but. He wasn’t wrong before. And if we don’t. Everyone... _we_ might die.”

“At least we wouldn’t have to attend a funeral ever again,” Klaus singsonged.

Diego raised an eyebrow, but Klaus could make out a vestige of a smile, he could. “Get serious. Our luck’s gotta run out eventually.” The same dread Klaus had when sobriety hit and ghosts loomed hungry and bitter and vengeful crept along Diego’s next statement. Except there were no ghosts to speak of right now, not even Ben. “This may be our last do over, Klaus. Don’t know if we have much of a choice here.”

And, see, it wasn’t that Klaus found the idea repulsive (Diego’s insanely hot, this was an unspoken fact; add an extra mark on the list of Fucked Up Things Klaus Might Be In To) but he still wore Dave’s dog tags, and _Christ,_ he hadn’t slept with anyone since him.

So, yeah. He wasn’t sure if he was emotionally prepared for this situation.

“Hey.” Diego snapped his fingers. “You in there?”

“Yanno what.” Klaus stood up, flashed a tattoo _(goodbye),_ and headed towards the foyer. He could not do this right now. Nope. No way. “Burn, baby, burn.”

He pretended not to feel the heat of Diego’s gaze on the way out.

 

* * *

 

The next few days passed in a blur of avoidance, alcohol, and crying silently in the bathtub. All three were a staple of his life at this point, but we won’t talk about that. We _can_ talk about how Ben decided to appear during one of his less graceful breakdowns, after his last high wore thin and his quiet tears edged into harrowed sobs, and how it ultimately led to, well. The Talk.

“I heard what’s going on, bro,” Ben said once Klaus was calm and sprawled out on bed, wrapped snug in the fuzziest blanket he could jack from Allison’s room.

“Imagine that. Fuck. You and your stupid ghastly know-it-all bullshit.” Klaus scrubbed his swollen eyes. “Ben. Ben. I’m the reason the apocalypse is going to happen. You wanna stay and have a chit-chat? Cuddle and cry about it, mayhaps?”

It felt nice to say out loud. And terrifying, like admitting it made things much more real. Klaus was going to end the world because for the first time in his miserable life he didn’t want to fuck. Most definitely not his brother—the same brother he touched noses with too many times to count, the same brother who may or may not have kick-started his homoerotic fantasies growing up, the same brother who, damn it, put him in his place and helped him forget.

No. He wanted Dave.

“Dude, you’ve got to pull yourself together.”

“Yup. I’ll get right on that.”

Ben’s annoyance was skyrocketing by the minute. “You have four days.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Cool, work faster.”

“And how do you presume I do that, hm?” Klaus tapped his chin in faux bemusement. “Should I wander on over to Diego’s sweaty dungeon, knock on his door and beg him to raw me ‘til the end times go bye-bye? Say a big fuck you to Dave and move on, no questions asked?” The prick of fresh tears stung as satisfying as the needle. Ben shook his head and drifted close enough to touch and hug and punch if it weren’t damn near impossible in this state, which. Was probably for the best.

“You’re wagering more here than hurt feelings, man. I think Dave would understand. You let this happen, and he died for nothing.”

Of course Ben talked mad sense. Dave was perfect, he _would’ve_ understood, but Klaus was a wreck hellbent on destroying himself and the planet, apparently.

“Yeah,” Klaus said.

He dug in his nightstand for a rationed bag of emergency pills, and ignored Ben’s pleas the whole way back under.

 

* * *

 

Klaus didn’t come down for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. Diego knew this because he waited for him. He paced the academy’s halls, caught up with Mom, ignored Luther and Vanya and whoever else seemed surprised to find him hang around of his own accord. Didn’t dare try Klaus’ bedroom, though. A line has to be drawn somewhere.

None of the waiting mattered. Klaus had locked himself away or turned to the streets. Destruction sown.

The analog clock read 11:59 PM when he decided to return home, and his pent-up nerves led him straight to the gym’s training room.

It was like this: not only did Diego have to deal with Five’s constant, unnecessary remarks that he and Klaus had no choice in the matter, and the sooner you get it over with the better, seriously, he also had to deal with knowing he didn’t know. He didn’t know how to go about… any of it. Men were unexplored territory. Klaus, an enigma since day zero. The hourglass kept spitting grains while Diego wallowed in his crisis, too stubborn to hunt Klaus down, too in denial to recognize the gravity of not doing so.

He threw a right hook, and then a left, gloved knuckles pounding. Each attack against the punching bag was fueled by volcanic fervor, red-hot anger; his usual methodical approach reduced to something erratic and almost primal. The inevitable urged him forward every time he thought about giving his body a break and calling it a night. Klaus wouldn’t let him rest.

And when he did rest, that’s when he dreamt. The kind of dreams you couldn’t shake off no matter how much you wanted, no, _needed_ to. These past few nights were hell for that. Flashes of Klaus’ pretty face would fuck him up randomly: Klaus on his knees, Klaus pinned down, Klaus with come dripping from his long lashes. Last night’s dream was rough, yeah. Klaus had begged for a knife against his throat. The faintest scratch—just the tiniest amount of pressure—and blood would bead to the surface, get the two of them messy with it. He was fucking gorgeous like that, and Diego came so hard he woke up.

 _That_ was an upsetting clean-up.

His punches steadily lost their fire. Kind of hard to do anything when you had a chubby over goddamn _Klaus._ God, he was fucked up. He hit the bag one last time for good measure, discarded his gloves, and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck.

He needed to find Klaus. ASAP.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, Klaus found him. The sun had begun its ascent; darkness yielded to vibrant pink hues as birds screeched their morning songs. He sat criss-cross applesauce on a bench outside the gym, accoutred in his signature jacket and ridiculous laced pants, several squashed cigarette butts littering the sidewalk around him. Another cigarette was lit and held between his fingers, close to his lips, but his thumbnail dug into the filter and he never took a drag.

He looked small, vulnerable. And tired. So, so tired.

Diego moved without thinking. “Klaus?”

It took him a second to speak. When he did, he lacked the wild timbre he usually had. “Oh. You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be.” He chuckled and blinked up at him. “Hiii.”

“I was about to take a run. Slept like shit.” Diego gestured towards the bench and Klaus nodded, scooting over. He sat beside him and knocked their shoulders together. “What’s up?”

“Meh.” Klaus shrugged. “This is the best spot in town to catch the sunrise, didn’t you hear?” Except it wasn’t, and they both knew that.

“Uh-huh. ‘Course.” Diego plucked the cigarette from Klaus’ loose grasp. Ash fell on his sweatpants and he swept it away, flicking the unsmoked portion down to join the rest in Klaus’ cigarette graveyard. “But really, though.”

“But _really,”_ Klaus said. “You know why I’m here.”

“Do I?”

“Pretty sure you do.”

“No, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Christ, Diego.” Klaus turned towards him and the sunlight caught his green eyes just so. Diego almost forgot to breathe. “You and me. Let’s save some lives, baby.”

Diego couldn’t take his eyes off him. “Yeah, o– okay.”

Klaus’ smile broke his heart. “Now then. Are you going to invite me down to your dungeon and ravish me, or are we just gonna sit here and watch the greatest sunrise of our lives?”

 

* * *

 

“Full disclosure,” Diego said as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, “I’ve never been with a man.”

“To the surprise of no one.” Klaus stretched out on Diego’s bed, watched him strip in a sort of languid daze. “I got lube in m’ back pocket. Because, in case you’re unaware! I can’t get wet by myself. Your bed sucks, B.T.W.”

“You are such an idiot.”

“Why the name calling? I’m stating the obvious, okay, the ground is genuinely more comfortable than your bed. This is terrible.”

“No, I– please, shut up.”

“Mm. You’ll find that’s a lot to ask of me. I’m super loud.”

“Yeah?” Diego stood there shirtless, the sexy fucker, clad in nothing but his sweats. Klaus eyed his pierced nipple. Hello, that was a thing now. “You better stay quiet. This place ain’t soundproof.”

“We’ll tell them we’re busy saving the world. Duh. I’m sure they’d leave you be if they realized you were fucking me to atone for their sins.”

Diego’s always had animate features. Klaus saw the way his eyes darkened at that, noticed the change in his posture, how he stared at him like he actually wanted to screw him senseless and wasn’t just being forced by the universe, or Five, whichever came first. That kind of attention, so visible and unrestrained—especially after so long— _really_ did something to the nether bits. “Take your clothes off,” he said, smirking. “Let me see you, Klaus.”

Who was he to deny him that? It came as a second nature. The push and pull of their dynamic, that encompassing desire to please. Klaus made a show of it and Diego hissed, palming his hardening cock. It tented the front of his pants and was so damn obscene Klaus physically ached for it.

“Heh.” Klaus winked once he was stark naked and spread out nice. “Like what you see? Best soak it up, buttercup.”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you,” Diego said, and lunged. He shoved between Klaus’ legs, pushed him flat into the mattress with a calloused grip on his throat. And he kissed him.

Okay.

Turned out, Diego kissed like he fought. Skilled as hell and _mean._ It took Klaus by surprise because for some reason he expected a No Smooching rule, but nope, Diego kissed him hard and didn’t stop, moved their lips together with the messy hostility of a man who hasn't gotten his dick wet in months, probably. One hand skirted across Klaus’ bare side and the other stayed right there on his neck, thumb firm against a soft spot beneath his jaw.

Klaus’ body reacted in ways that betrayed him—no, no. Betrayed Dave. He hated himself for it. Hated how good Diego kissed him, hated that he somehow knew the right buttons to press without having to try. The moan slipped out before he could cut it off and Diego literally fucking growled, holy shit. For sure going into the spank bank.

“You look,” Diego said after they parted, releasing his hold on Klaus’ neck to smear the drool that had dripped down his chin, “you look so pr–p-pretty. Damn it. Why are you so beautiful?”

“Don’t.” Klaus felt his chest tighten. He ignored the familiar pang and tugged at the short strands of Diego’s hair instead, jerking his hips, desperate for contact. “Don’t say any of that crap. Please. It gives me awful tumors.”

“I’ll do what I want.” Diego shoved three fingers in Klaus’ mouth and tapped his tongue. “Stop talking. Get ‘em wet for me, come on.”

Oh, what a kinky bastard.

Klaus sucked on his fingers and bam, game over, man — he had Diego hooked. His face gave it all away. He was riveted, pupils blown and jaw slack, dick straining against the cotton of his pants. Seeing Diego this undone was easily the hottest thing Klaus had experienced. And it made him feel like dogshit.

“Hell. Look at you.” Diego fucked his fingers in and out and used his free hand to squeeze Klaus’ hip. His soft noises filled the boiler room, _mm’s_ and _aah’s_ and _nng’s._ They must have driven Diego crazy. “You are a noisy little shit, aren’t you.”

Klaus waggled his brows. “Mf-tol’ d’ya,” he mumbled, because there were still fingers shoved down his throat.

“What?”

He opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out and Diego took the hint. A thread of spit snapped as he pulled away. “I said–”

It was universally known between the Hargreeves that Diego was an asshole first and everything else last. Klaus soon learned this did not exclude his bedroom manners. He prodded a saliva-slick finger at Klaus’ hole, who in turn yelped and retaliated by viciously yanking his hair.

“–warnaguyseriouslythat’s _weird—”_

“Ow, don’t pull so hard, brat–”

“—any-fucking-way, I said!” He raised his voice just to be annoying, “I told you I was loud!”

The way Diego blinked was quite comical. “Huh,” he said. “I guess you did.” And then he shoved a finger inside him.

“Shiiiiit.” Klaus threw his head back. “I can…take more, okay, gimme the others before I _die.”_

“‘Kay. Drama queen.” Diego complied, wasting no time. He stretched him out gentler than Klaus would’ve guessed he’d be capable of, but it was still drier than lube and a tad painful. Especially when he added the third finger.

Klaus  _relished_ it.

His heels dug into the curve of Diego’s back as he slung an arm over his eyes and lost himself in the unceremonious burn. “Feels s’gooood.”

“Looks so good,” Diego said. He leaned down, kissed the corner of his bruised lips, twisted his fingers in a way that had Klaus’ toes curling.

How he could simultaneously be the biggest prick and sweetest teddy bear was beyond him; it was a paradox that left Klaus ridiculously hard and wanton as fuck.

“Get those pants off, Diego, pretty-please.”

“You want it?”

Klaus groaned. “No. Not at all. Go away now.”

“Cute.” He slipped his fingers out of Klaus and yanked his wrist towards his dick. “You want it, then get it out yourself.”

“My God,” Klaus whined. “Move. Let me get to it better. Please.”

“How polite. Guess I can do that for you, yeah.”

The bed was too small, creaked way too loud, but eventually Diego was leant against the headboard and Klaus was bowed and ready with his face by his crotch. He peppered kisses above his waistband while his fingertips dipped underneath it. Ever a tease. “You’re a big boy, huh?”

“Shut up,” Diego grit out, but he smoothed back Klaus’ mussed fringe so fondly it ruined any sense of the tough-guy-act he’d meant to convey.

Finally— _finally_ —Klaus pawed off those stupid fucking sweatpants until they were bunched at his knees.

“Ohoho,” he said, whistling lowly. “Me likes what I sees.”

“C’mon, then.” Diego pushed at Klaus’ head and dragged the tip of his cock across his lips. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Klaus couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss there, delicate and loving and Diego’s breath faltered and _oh,_ that’s what he wanted, was it? So he did it again, trailed a hand along the inside of his thigh, flicked his tongue out for a kittenlick and grinned wildly because now he knew exactly what to do to _shatter_ Diego’s control.

“Bet you’ve always wondered that, haven’t you, dear,” Klaus said, and deliberately met his gaze. He wasn’t really expecting an answer, but Diego tensed and looked away and that was answer enough. “Heh. I don’t blame you. I mean, look at me!”

Diego swallowed and threaded his fingers through Klaus’ hair. “Maybe this is a bad i—”

 _Oh, no, don’t finish that sentence,_ Klaus wanted to say. _This is definitely a bad idea, Diego, but don’t you dare fucking tell me that when I’m over here cheating on my goddamn boyfriend with you for the sake of the world or some bullshit, you piece of shit. Don’t say that, don’t say that, don’t—_

But he effectively cut Diego off by getting his dick in his mouth instead. His words broke into a groan and whatever ignorant crap he was about to spiel became nothing but a fleeting thought, one best left forgotten now, because check it out! He was being blown by none other than Klaus freakin’ Hargreeves!

And Klaus was _great_ at this, too. He worked his mouth and tongue like a dream and paid special attention to all the sensitive places, would pop off to kiss his cock or play with his balls and then suck him down again, never sparing a chance for recovery. Taking him down all the way was next to impossible but, God, if the stretch of his jaw hurt didn’t hurt beautifully.

His skill had turned Diego into a right mess, by the sounds of it.

He fucked Klaus’ mouth with shallow thrusts and those hands of his were all over. Smoothing down his hair, petting him as if he were an animal, caressing the back of his neck and the sides of his face and under his chin, thumbing where the drool dripped from his bottom lip. This was probably Klaus’ messiest blowjob to date, and once he’s gone later he bet Diego will look at the wet spot on his bed sheets and cry in shame as he reminisced over what he just did to his best brother Klaus.

“Too pretty,” Diego said, sounding _wrecked._ He held Klaus still by the back of his neck as he fucked his mouth hard enough to leave him choking on it, hard enough to have tears swelling in the corners of his eyes, and Klaus fucking loved it.

But he also had to breathe. Diego kept him there, though, easing his grip only a little when Klaus struggled to pull away. “How long can you hold your breath, Klaus?” He sounded gruff. Patronizing. “You think you can hold it as long as me?” Klaus inhaled deeply through his nose to prove a point. Diego chuckled. “Mm, fair enough. Let’s find out one day.”

 _Nonono,_ his mind said, but his dick twitched and he knew he was fucked.

The pressure on his neck relieved, then, as Diego let go of him. Klaus raised his head and wiped the spit from his lips, wheezing very faintly.

“Sorry,” Diego said, not sorry at all. He had the decency to look embarrassed, at least, like he couldn’t totally believe he said what he did out loud, and Klaus patted his thigh.

“I’m gonna ride you now,” he said. And if his voice cracked, well. Not his fault.

“Yeah you are. Get that ass over here.”

“Patience, young one,” Klaus said as he leaned over the side of the bed, ass up. Diego gave it a tap.

“What’cha doing.”

“A super duper important thing. Hold up.” He dug around his pants— oops, wrong pocket, must be this one...there we go— before presenting a small bottle of lube. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, right. Do I…”

“Do you have a condom?”

“I don’t bring girls down here often, Klaus, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Klaus gasped. “What?! You _exude_ sex. I cannot believe this.”

“Believe it.” Diego shrugged. “You clean?”

“Are _you?”_

“Yes, Klaus.”

“...ah, right, right. Well so am I. It’s been a while, Diego, dear.”

Diego smirked and wrapped his arms around Klaus’ waist, reeling him in. “Then I don’t see a problem.”

He was a kinky bastard, all right.

This was the part where Klaus should have started freaking out, all things considered. But he felt oddly calm and more turned on than he cared to admit. He climbed on top of Diego’s lap, squeezed some lube in his palm, and began to jerk him off lazily with it. Diego’s nails dug crescents into his hips.

“Hurry up. Shit.”

“Okay, okay. Just trying to make sure I don’t die via penis, that’s all.” Klaus snapped his wrist in either direction, tantalizing. “Why? Can you come like this?”

“Don’t want to,” was all Diego said. He reached for Klaus’ ass and hauled him forward that way, shifted him around until the wet head of his dick caught his hole—their faces were so close like this, so fucking intimate Klaus couldn’t stand it.

Diego stared as Klaus took him in, inch by inch, skinny thighs trembling before they’d even started fucking proper. He rubbed circles into his skin, whispered, _“beautiful”_ and _“fucking tight, fuck”_ and Klaus whimpered because, Christ, Diego felt _amazing._

“Big boy,” Klaus panted.

Diego kissed his forehead like it was nothing. “I wish you could see yourself.”

“Ha.” He rocked his hips and Diego’s whole body jerked. “My view’s not too bad, either.”

Every bit of offhand praise was like a serum that dragged Diego further into the depths of ardor; he looked so damn proud of himself, so fucking elated over seeing Klaus take his dick and _like_ it. Always watching him with those dark eyes, always kneading his ass, or the small of his back, or the outside of his thighs. And he was quiet, too. The only noises that tumbled out were thick grunts and sharp intakes of breath. He’d snap his hips up in time with Klaus’ bouncing, fuck him deep and hard and _God_ if it didn’t make Klaus boneless and desperate and shamefully loud.

He held Diego’s shoulders for support, built a rhythm so violent he’d feel it in every step later, an aching reminder that he’d just been fucked good by his brother, shit, was it good. Klaus hadn’t touched himself yet and Diego sure as hell hadn’t thought of it — his cock leaked and it _hurt_ but that’s what pushed him closer and closer, that twisted gratification he got from being used and forgotten.

His moans bordered on wails when Diego used his strength to push him on his back and he allowed himself to be swept in the motion, circling his legs around Diego’s waist and baring his neck, painted nails scrabbling up and down, tearing into skin. Somewhere in his lust-clouded mind he hoped he’d leave vicious welts on Diego’s back, ones that stung for days. An eye-for-an-eye considering how much deep body pain he was going to be in later.

Diego bit the skin above his collarbone and sucked bruises into his skin and cradled his head (that endearing fucking prick) and whispered hotly in his ear, “gonna come soon,” and Klaus full-on quivered.

“Yeah, yeahyeahyeah,” he whimpered, incoherent babbling, now, lost in the sensuality of not giving a fuck.

“Wish I could do this forever,” Diego murmured, and if he hadn’t had his face buried by his ear Klaus may not have heard him.

But Klaus was too far gone to think about it. This angle made it easy to rut against Diego and rub one out without having to touch himself. It was intense and the feeling surged when Diego fucked into _that_ spot, thrusts so reckless and sloppy and _perfect_ Klaus was coming with a sob before he could voice any sort of warning.

“Fuck, Klaus, oh–” There was some white noise and Diego pressed their lips together, again, hips stilling as he kissed him through his own orgasm. Any sounds between the two of them were left muffled and drowned out. He shuddered, nipped Klaus’ bottom lip, gazed down at him the entire time. It was a lot, okay, so the tears flowing down his face weren’t anything to be concerned over.

Diego, of course, was concerned. “Hey. Hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Klaus tittered. “It’d take more abuse than that to hurt me. No, no. It was just. Very much overwhelming.”

“I’m sorry,” Diego said, and the sheer emotion in his words was enough to make Klaus want to crawl in a hole and never return.

He slipped out gingerly as if now were the most appropriate moment to treat Klaus like fine china. Klaus could feel it when Diego’s come leaked out and trickled onto the sheets but he stayed where he was, fucked out and guilty and terribly lovesick.

Diego hiked his sweatpants back up and cracked his neck. The bed squeaked, obviously very happy to lose the excess weight, as he stood and headed for the makeshift kitchen. “You want some eggs?”

_No. I want to leave and forget this happened and I want you to do the same._

“...Sure. Why not.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m proud of you guys,” Vanya said a few days later during brunch, when it was apparent they had truly avoided the apocalypse and saved the world from certain doom. Finally.

Allison nodded and cocked an immaculate brow. “Yeah, seriously. I can’t believe the Academy’s two biggest boneheads actually pulled it off. By themselves.” She swiped a blueberry from Luther’s plate and popped it in her mouth. “Five never told us how you did it.”

Five sipped his coffee. Diego coughed. Klaus simpered.

“Well y’see,” Klaus said, vexingly grating, and Diego stiffened beside him, “...I don’t quite understand how we did it myself. I was high, like, every day. Still am. Ha-ha!”

“Butterfly effect,” Diego said, and stabbed his fork into his poor pancake’s smiling face.

Allison eyed where Diego’s arm rested on the back of Klaus’ chair. “Mhm. Right.”

“However they did it,” Luther started, oblivious as always, “it was a job well done.”

Klaus adjusted the boa around his neck. “Why, thank you, thank you.”

“Be careful. You’ll show them your hickeys,” Ben said, sniggering.

“For the love of all that is holy, Ben, shut the hell up–”

“Oh, is Ben here?” chirped Vanya.

“Yes,” Ben said.

“Nope,” said Klaus.

Diego’s hand had found its way to Klaus’ shoulder sometime during this absurd exchange. He gave it a squeeze and, just like that, stole his attention fair and square.

He mouthed, “wanna get out of here?” and Klaus jumped to his feet so fast everyone at the table flinched.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Klaus yelled over his shoulder, tugging Diego right along his pursuit out the door. Diego didn’t act surprised at all — no, he seemed more smug than anything, and that piqued Allison’s curiosity tenfold.

Silence encompassed the dining room. Slowly all attention went to Five, who had taken a keen interest in the table all of a sudden. “Not talking about it,” he said without glancing up, and then he was gone.

“I really hate when he does that,” sighed Luther.

 

* * *

 

It’d take a while before Klaus was congenial enough to allow Diego past his walls. Perhaps in another timeline they would’ve talked about it—about Dave—but the wounds were fresh and sunken, their relations too alike (yet different, because Diego’s very essence juxtaposed Dave’s), and Klaus had no desire to express the guilt he felt every time Diego held him or kissed him or fed him or fucked him. Even though they had already stopped the apocalypse. Even though they didn’t have to keep doing it anymore.

But they made it work because they couldn’t stay away from each other, and Klaus supposed he was okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been [translated](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8050317/20438436) and is now available in russian.  
> thanks a bunch! :-)


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